duty, honor, and truth
by ncfan
Summary: -Isane, Unohana- The word is not perfect, but these hands are clean.


**Characters**: Isane, Unohana**  
Summary**: The world is not perfect, but these hands are clean.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Ehh, not everyone will be happy with this, I'm sure, but I don't always aim to please. Unohana _is_ only human after all.**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

We both learned long ago how to service a gray-shadowed world without forfeiting out integrity to dark places.

At all times possible I find myself staring down on my hands. Being taller than all of the women and many of the men of Soul Society, I have large, long-fingered hands, with palms like roadmaps, the calluses the raised surfaces of decorative mountains.

These hands, I see with a sigh of relief, are still clean. It shouldn't be so surprising to me; I see my hands every day and come to the same conclusion every time I see them. But still, it's a relief to know that I am perhaps just a little less stained than the majority of my comrades.

I don't mean cleanliness in the physical sense. In that sense, yes, my pale hands, darting like oversized white spiders, are often splattered with crimson washes of blood or ingrained with dirt or grime. Often on my knees, my life is spent accumulating physical stains and scars to tarnish my flesh; I can not count the horrors these hands have seen and delved into. But in every way that matters they are as pure as fresh snowfall, white and clean.

To that end, I had a good teacher.

I owe a great deal to Unohana-taicho. Maybe my whole life. If it weren't for her, I would still be out in Rukongai, body wasted and utterly alone, mind shut to the truth of myself, never knowing my own potential. I would only know that I was always hungry, never knowing why. Or else, I would be dead, my body not even covered with the decency of cold earth to cover the nakedness of death, and my existence would be for naught.

She has been almost impossibly kind, and I inordinately lucky. I have found—a rarity in Soul Society—a teacher and mentor who asks for nothing in return. For her teaching, she wishes only to have my service for the Fourth Division, and my loyalty to it as well.

And from Unohana-taicho, I learned how to walk the avenues of power and corruption, and not be touched.

There are simple rules to follow in Seireitei: if you aren't looking to gain power, keep your head down and you won't get hurt. Ignore the sometimes immoral machinations of those who want to rise in the ranks if you want to live long enough to see them rise. If you have suspicions, you must have _absolute_ proof to be believed—sort of the equivalent of catching a child with his hand in the cookie jar.

Never involve yourself in it though, even if you can see it all around.

As much as it may rankle, I have learned to do such. I can serve no one if I am dead, my captain tells me. When I wonder why she does not do something, since there are few alive who could even dream of being capable of killing her, Unohana-taicho shakes her head, and spreads her hands so they encompass the breadth of the Fourth division grounds.

"_When I open my mouth to speak, all listen. None can prevent me from uttering them. But the words I give may determine the lives and deaths of thousands. I have to take care in what I say. I watch, and wait, and then I act. I do not stop to speak."_

It is not perfect. It is far from perfect, and it is the first signal to break my naïve, childish faith in my captain—she is not perfect, nor can she commit to any action with impunity. She has her fears and her doubts, and she hesitates, sometimes to ill effect.

I turn my eyes from this.

Instead, I focus on the effects of politics on healing.

Though Yamamoto-soutaicho would perhaps at times wish it otherwise, Unohana-taicho and I, for the most part, abide by the belief that a healer's helping hands should be indiscriminate, and not limited to our own comrades.

We have a duty, as I see it. Even if this duty is seen as impractical, or railed against by those who lack compassion and a clear eye, I live by it.

As I see it, my duty is first to Seireitei. I am a member of a military organization and I must follow orders. If I am ordered, directly, not to heal a certain casualty or ordered to turn a blind eye to the corruption that runs rampant through the streets and back alleys, I will do so. I will not be happy, but I will still nod my head and try to be obedient.

Beyond duty to Seireitei, I have a duty to myself. To my honor, and to the truth.

My hands are indiscriminate, and my ears, I lament, are closed.

But these hands are clean, and they will stay clean.


End file.
